


the art of blitz

by oryx



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief respite in Besaid, teaching the best game ever played to some uneducated fools.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the art of blitz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darthneko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthneko/gifts).



> prompt:  
> "Final Fantasy X - Braska, Jecht and Auron. I'd love something a little more lighthearted - I mean, really, here they are on a long journey and poor Auron is stuck playing straight man to Jecht's irresponsible hi-jinks and Braska always struck me as trying to keep a straight face and totally failing and laughing up his ridiculously huge sleeve at whatever Jecht had done that day. So - a little silly and comedy? Boys being boys? What they do on the road when there's nobody around to see them being idiots? They're totally my OT3, but relationship isn't required. Additional prompt - I admit, I'd love to see Jecht trying to teach Braska blitzball."
> 
> i saw this old prompt & thought it was rly cute! just a short fluffy-ish fic for kicks uvu

“Wait a second.” Jecht stops mid-step and turns around to affix Braska with a disbelieving stare. “Are you seriously tellin’ me you’ve never played a game of Blitzball?”

 

They’re on the path to Kilika Temple, pushing their way through a maze of undergrowth and low-hanging vines, getting lost at every turn. Jecht feels distinctly unsettled by the ancient trees that loom overhead, branches laden with moss and bark stained white with lichen. There’s not a whole lot of greenery where he comes from, and from the look of this eerie old forest he’s beginning to understand why.

 

You can’t trust anything that’s been alive for a thousand fucking years.

 

Braska smiles, amused. “I became a priest at a young age, Jecht. Sport is not exactly an acceptable pastime for a man of the cloth. Not to say that some of us didn’t sneak out to _watch_ a match now and then, though. We even had a secret betting pool every season that I… may or may not have been in charge of.”

 

Jecht is positively dumbstruck by this revelation. He turns to Auron almost pleadingly. “Well, what about you, Mister Serious? You can’t honestly tell me you’ve never played Blitzball either. I mean, _come on_.”

 

Auron scowls at him. “I certainly have not,” he says brusquely. “I would never spend my time on such frivolous pursuits.”

 

“… You have got to be shitting me.” Jecht slumps morosely against a nearby tree, shaking his head in dismay. “I’m travellin’ with a couple of _Blitz virgins_. Fuckin’ hell.”

 

Braska laughs, and the tips of Auron’s ears flush bright red at such a ‘vulgar turn of phrase.’

 

“How about this?” Braska says, putting a comforting hand on Jecht’s shoulder. “Once we get to Besaid you can teach us some of the basics of Blitzball. Would that make you feel better?”

 

“L-Lord Braska!” Auron stammers (like he always does when he’s flustered). “We are on a pilgrimage! There is no time for leisurely detours and, and foolish games! We must – ”

 

“Now, now, Auron. Calm down. Are you really so eager for our journey to be over?”

 

The two of them exchange a significant glance, and Auron grows suddenly quiet, his expression darkening, tension present in hard line of his jaw.

 

“No, Lord Braska,” he says, turning away, and Jecht wonders (not for the first time) just what these assholes aren’t telling him.

 

“Yeah, I’ll teach you the basics,” he says, to break the strained silence. “Under my tutelage you’ll be whooping ass at Blitzball in no time flat. And if you’re lucky I might even show you guys the Sublimely Magnificent Jecht Shot Mark III.”

 

“Oh my,” Braska chuckles. “Now that does sound special.”

 

Ahead of them, Auron huffs out an aggravated sigh and throws his hands up in defeat.

 

\--

 

\--

 

They manage to find an empty stretch of beach on the outskirts of Besaid, much to Jecht’s satisfaction. He doubts Auron would go within ten feet of a Blitzball if there were people around who might ‘get the wrong idea.’

 

Jecht digs his toes into the soft white sand and stares out at the calm ocean, taking a deep breath of sea air. The sun is hot but not stifling. The wind is present but faint. It’s a good day for Blitz. A perfect day, even, the kind that can make a man forget he’s in a different world, on a mission with two religious nutjobs hellbent on destroying some kind of giant floating death whale.

 

When he looks back, Braska is wearing plainclothes.

 

It’s the first time Jecht’s ever seen him with the robe and headdress off, and to be honest it’s a little disappointing. No grotesque muscular deformities. No crazy tattoos or scars up and down his arms. Just a regular guy – pale skin, light brown hair, thin but not particularly fit. About what he’d expect from a man who’s spent his life chanting prayers and fasting every time a holy day rolls around.

 

“Man, I thought you were keeping somethin’ hidden under there,” he calls.

 

Braska laughs, stretching his arms over his head. “Sorry to let you down, my friend! Unfortunately I am a man of few secrets.”

 

Jecht rather doubts that, but he’s not one to press the issue. He walks over and tosses the Blitzball down between them, grinning broadly.

 

“You ready for your first Blitz practice?” He glances about, finally spotting Auron sitting in the shade of a nearby palm tree. “… And what about you? You plannin’ on joining us, or are you just gonna sit there like a wet blanket?”

 

Auron whips around, about ready to voice some haughty retort, but is silenced by Braska’s encouraging smile. It seems he is utterly incapable of saying no to his precious Lord Braska (a fact which Jecht plans to exploit quite soundly in the near future). Grumbling to himself, Auron tosses his sword down on the sand and wanders over.

 

“Alright,” Jecht says. “Now the first thing you gotta know about Blitz is how to spin the ball. It’s designed to cut through water, sure, but if you want it to really go anywhere you hafta get some rotation. That’s easy enough when you’re just tossing the thing. Even my brat back home can do that much. But it’s tougher when you’re kicking it. You gotta use the side of your foot to curve it.” He demonstrates, sending the Blitzball hurtling across the beach to knock over a pile of driftwood. Braska claps appreciatively.

 

A full minute passes as the three of them stand there in silence.

 

“… Well go on then,” Jecht says, staring at Auron pointedly. “Fetch it for me, will ya?”

 

For a split second Auron looks as if he might reach out and strangle Jecht. But Braska is clearly enjoying the lesson so far, and so after a few moments of seething he merely turns on his heel and jogs away to do as told.

 

“You really have to stop picking on him,” Braska murmurs, a glint of wicked amusement in his eyes.

 

“Can’t help it,” Jecht whispers back. “He’s just so fuckin’ _earnest_.”

 

\--

 

\--

 

Braska ends up being pretty good, all things considered. He doesn’t have the physical strength for long-range shots, but he manages to get a solid spin going after a couple tries. Auron, however…

 

“You’re hopeless,” Jecht says with a long-suffering sigh. “I have literally seen five-year-old children better at Blitzball than you. If there were an award for sucking, you, my friend, would win it. Congratulations.”

 

“Shut up,” Auron growls. He runs up the ball and attempts once more to kick it, only to have it skyrocket straight upwards into the air. Jecht shields his eyes from the sun’s glare and stares up into the sky, counting silently – it takes almost thirty seconds for the thing to land.

 

“It’s like you’re getting worse and worse the more you try. I’m not sure how that’s humanly possible.”

 

A muscle beneath Auron’s eye twitches. “Forget it,” he hisses. “I am done with this insipid game! There is no point whatsoever in continuing with this idiocy!”

 

He storms away angrily, grabbing his sword and making a beeline across the beach, towards the path that leads back to the village.

 

“You’ll never improve with that attitude,” Jecht calls. He runs a hand through his hair tiredly. “Man, that guy can be a pain in the ass. Has he always been like this?”

 

Braska is hiding a smile behind his hand. “As long as I’ve known him, yes. Auron is one of those unfortunate people who never quite learned how to laugh at himself, I’m afraid. And though he is a dear friend, even I must admit that he can be a tad… wearisome at times.”

 

“Wearisome, huh? Yeah, that sounds about right.” Jecht lowers himself down on to the ground and motions for Braska to join him. “Damn, you two managed to tire me out, though. I must be gettin’ old.”

 

“Don’t lie,” Braska laughs. “You’ve barely even broken a sweat.”

 

“… Well at the very least it was better exercise than fighting fiends.” Jecht grins and falls back, letting the soft sand cushion him. He picks up a handful and watches it sift through his fingers. A thought strikes him, then. “I wonder if that brat of mine is keepin’ up with his Blitz training.”

 

“I’m sure any son of yours is well ahead of the curve.”

 

“Yeah, probably…” Jecht frowns. “I dunno. I guess I’m just realizin’ now that he was pretty great for his age. An’ all I ever did was tell him how he wasn’t good enough.”

 

“You can tell him the truth when you get back home,” Braska says, smiling down at him.

 

“Sure, whenever that might be,” Jecht mutters. “But hey, I keep forgetting, you’ve got that cute little daughter of yours. Yuna, right? I bet you miss her like crazy, eh?”

 

“Oh, more than I can say.” Braska’s smile fades a bit. “I keep telling myself that I’m doing this for her, but… Well. It’s difficult to reconcile when my first instinct is to be by her side.”

 

“Yeah,” Jecht says thoughtfully. “I get what you mean. I guess Auron has a point, y’know? About detours and whatnot. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner you can see your kid.”

 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows (in that way that he just _does_ , sometimes) that it was the wrong thing to say. Braska is staring out at the ocean, face averted, but Jecht can see the way his shoulders grow tense, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt anxiously. His chin is resting on his knees and he seems so very small, curled in upon himself like he’s trying to keep something out.

 

“Yes,” he says, voice barely audible above the sound of the waves. “It would be nice, to see Yuna’s face again.”

 

They sit there in somber silence until Jecht can’t stand it any longer. He picks up the Blitzball and beans Braska in the head with it, forcing himself to grin.

 

“C’mon,” he says, extending a hand. “Up and at ‘em. I’ll teach you how to block a pass.”

 

\--

 

\--

 

It’s getting dark, and they walk the sandy path back to Besaid Village side by side, Jecht keeping one eye trained on their surroundings just in case. There aren’t many fiends in this area, but ‘you can never be too careful’ says a suspiciously Auron-like voice in his mind.

 

“Hey, you wanna come back tomorrow?” Jecht asks. “We could have a practice game. You and Auron versus me. He’ll be grumpy about it, but he’ll do it if it’s you asking.”

 

Braska’s smile is tinged a soft reddish-orange in the light of the setting sun. “That sounds wonderful,” he says. “Although…”

 

“Hmm, yeah,” Jecht muses. “You might be better off without Auron on your team, all things considered. Dead weight if I’ve ever seen one.”

 

They exchange a furtive, sidelong glance. And then they begin to laugh, the sound echoing across the dunes and reverberating from the distant cliffs.

 

(Perhaps they’ll stay in Besaid a few days longer.)


End file.
